Chapter 18
The soft sound of the light rain falling around us is barely hearable over the loud sound of the tessarae train. This is like no train I had ever been in before. Of course, every other time I had been in the best of the best, where servants tended to us and we were treated to whatever we desired. I have never needed those comforts to be happy but it is impossible not to contrast it to our current conditions.
I am sitting in the cold floor, surrounded by filth, amounted on every inch of the surrounding surfaces to the point that it is impossible to tell what the original color was. I inch my neck to look out of a small opening that lets me take a small peek outside and I remember how every time I have found myself in a train, looking out into the passing trees, I have wanted to flee to them for comfort and security. Except for today.
Today, I look at them with longing but no desire to go to them anymore. They can't provide me with the security I desire, nor can they promise it to my family.
Prim. Mother.
What are they doing right this moment?
Are they treating someone from the Seam, sick and dying? Or are they having a quiet dinner at the house? Are they being taken away by Peacekeepers?
I can't think about it. The images are too difficult to bear.
I see a flock of mockingjays as we speed by them, fluttering and gliding playfully. How I wish I could fly away like them, fly as fast as I could to my family.
Instead, I am trapped in this train, my only refuge and my only way of getting to them, as torturing and slow as it may be.
And with all the stops they must make at every District, it only makes the wait longer, our chances less on our favor.
So here I am.
Katniss Everdeen.
I fought in the Hunger Games.
I survived.
I got married.
I may or may not be pregnant.
I am a fugitive.
I may never see my family again.
Little drops of rain drizzle as I lay lazily on the filthy floor, no longer caring if I start looking like a miner, covered in black.
My cheek presses against the hard surface as it feels its roughness and irritates at the contact.
My mind forces on me even more worries, as it reminds me I am on my way to wherever it is the rebels are- the rebels of a rebellion against the Capitol- and Haymitch is one of them. And so are Peeta and I by extension.
Peeta.
How is it that no matter what, he is always entangled in my problems? From the day we were twelve outside his parents' bakery to today's date, Peeta has done nothing but try to make things better, even if it means his own downfall.
To this day, I can never shake the connection between this boy, Peeta Mellark, the bread that gave me hope, and the dandelion that reminded me that I was not doomed.
I slowly move my head away from the outside and look in. And there he is, sitting against the hard metal wall, both knees supporting his elbows, head tilted and eyes lost in the distance. His eyebrows are hardly pushing themselves together, his forehead turned into many little bumps. His mouth is slightly open and turned downwards. His expression reminds me of the cave, when his thigh was infected and he wore a constant painful frown on his face, even in his sleep. And today, he has that same pained look.
He finally notices I am looking at him and catches my eye.
I wait for him to say something first, as he always does, but he doesn't. After a few seconds his gaze drops to the floor and away one more time.
Dark circles around his eyes transform his usually childish looking face to someone who is older, who has seen and known more than his young eyes should have. And it doesn't help that for the last six days, he has barely slept as he would monitor the observation room his regular shift and even stay with me during mine for the most part. Or the fact that neither one of us has stopped thinking about what we were meant to find out tomorrow.
He looks at me once again and hesitates before he speaks.
Almost as if reading my mind he asks: "I suppose you couldn't find out if… if you…" he struggles to say the right words.
I just shake my head, knowing what he is trying to ask.
"It doesn't matter anymore, I suppose" he says and looks away, "Unless you are. Then it matters, a lot" he breathes out.
"I suppose we will find out in a couple of weeks anyway" I state, blankly.
He just nods.
After a few minutes he adds: "So if you are, what then?" he asks and I don't know how to answer. What then? That question only begins to describe the enigmas that we must solve, if, in fact, I am.
I finally shrug, unable to give him an answer of any kind.
This marriage was always a sham. But if there is a life in between, what will that signify?
All I know is, if I am, one way or another, we will be tied forever.
But this new revelation shines no new light. I had already accepted long ago that the Capitol would make sure we never were apart. But now, the Capitol may soon be no more. Then what? Do we part ways and lead our own separate lives as if we had never gone through our lives' most impacting moments together? Do we remain unlikely friends, always connected by the experiences no one else in the world could probably understand but each other? If we have a child together… do we not have a choice?
There is something inevitably disillusioning about the idea but completely unrelated to the idea of being with Peeta.
The first option seems ridiculously unrealistic. Peeta has become a part of me as much as my mother and Prim are. And as I entertain the thought, the answer to his question becomes apparent, even obvious.
"If I am, then we try to be the best parents we can be" I say, hopeful at the small ray of sunshine slipping through the cracks.
What does this mean? I don't know and I couldn't figure it out if I tried. And I see Peeta understands, as he nods and gives me a small smile.
We have bigger things on our plates right now.
After all, we got a government to bring down.
My heart beats wildly inside my chest as we near District 12. The smell of the forest and the sight of the familiar trees send a wave of warmth as I near my home and my family.
The wait has been torture. I have spent days crying at the certainty that I will come to find my family gone. I have spent others hopeful that Haymitch will really have things under control as he says he does. I have spent others trying to forget all the things that are going on around us, to find some peace and comfort so I may keep myself sane as Haymitch constantly reminds us that he needs our brains to be ready to help once we arrive, though he hasn't explained why.
Peeta and I have slowly fallen into an easy manner that is good enough to satisfy Haymitch that we have "resolved our issues".
We have discussed our plans for once we get to District 12. We are to jump off once the train has slowed down enough but hasn't stopped. We can't get off at the actual station as by now every Peacekeeper in the nation will have their eyes looking for us. Once there, we will wait for nightfall, so Haymitch may get to one of the other rebels, to find out what has happened, so we may act then.
Of course, I don't plan to follow this. I am the fastest of the three so before they can realize I have run I will be too far for them to catch me. I know these woods as I know my own home and I know every single hidden pathway in this District. I will get to my family as soon as my feet will get me there.
And that is exactly what I do, even before the they have jumped off, I am rolling on the ground with the momentum of the jump as I faintly hear their voices then two loud thumps as they jump off to follow me. I get up on my feet and I am running, speeding through the trees as fast as I can.
I can't let them stop me.
They loudly make their way after me, breaking branches and tripping over the forest floor as I swiftly put more and more distance between us.
Haymitch's priority is the rebellion. He isn't looking out for mine and I don't blame him. But I must do this. And I know they will understand.
Haymitch's body, beaten by the years of drinking, and Peeta with his prosthetic leg, eventually disappear among the trees and their voices fade away.
It's been a while that I don't frequent these parts but they are still familiar enough that I can find my way.
The sun slowly hides behind the trees and the mountains and I know I must hurry. If night falls, I might be pray to the wild animals and I have no bow and arrow.
Although, I don't remember this part being so far from home.
I should have made it a long time ago.
But my resolve doesn't falter. I run even faster and make sure to locate myself well with the sun.
But something just doesn't add up. Why haven't I made it yet?
The rays from the sun are rare now and I don't see very well ahead of me.
A small fear starts spreading through my body as I consider the possibility that I may be lost. And if I am indeed lost, these aren't good parts of the woods to do so, as they were frequented by packs of wolves, though they stayed farther in the forest through the day.
That was part of the reason we only came here when I could find no game in my usual route. I only did it when I had no choice. But even then, I had protection.
I feel my back so bare as I acknowledge the dangers ahead of me and there isn't a bow and arrow there.
On cue, I hear the howl of a wolf not too far and my heart jumps in my chest. And a fear I had never experienced before takes over me. I have faced similar dangers before and never had I felt this desperate need for protection.
Because I had always only looked out for myself. But today that isn't the case.
The possibility of a baby in my belly becomes inexplicably real and I can't imagine having his life in danger.
I want to wrap my torso in a protective shield as I hear the howls getting closer and closer and I see no sign of District 12.
Could my stupidity for not trusting Haymitch cost him his life? After all, what could two hours mean when we have been looked for for days already?
Oh, how I wish I had stayed with them, where nothing threatened the life I may carry with me, the life I never saw as real before, the life I love, the life that may end today before it even began.
How can I be so afraid for someone more than I am for myself? Not once in the Hunger Games did I feel this fear, not even as the mutts surrounded us around the Cornucopia.
It is strange and foreign but undeniable.
And I hate myself for being so stupid.
Had I told Haymitch of what I wanted to do, would they have accompanied me?
If one thing I can be glad of is that I didn't do that. How could I live with myself if I cost Peeta and Haymitch their lives too?
Peeta's child does not deserve me as a mother.
And a single tear rolls down my face as I hear the feet of the beasts close on me.
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